Grace
by Fidelius Charm
Summary: The wizarding world abandoned religion, but I knew in that moment Hermione wasn’t about to do the same. Even if she’s considered a walking sin.
1. Devotion

Grace

_By Fidelius Charm_

**Summary**: The wizarding world abandoned religion, but I knew in that moment Hermione wasn't about to do the same. Even if she's considered a walking sin.

**Note**: I always thought about how paradoxical it is that wizarding families celebrate Christmas, even though the Christian religions reject witchcraft as sin. Just a thought.

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**Part I**:

_Devotion_

She was always considered the devoted one: devoted to her studies, devoted to her friends, devoted to her causes and beliefs, always so devoted. But I never really considered her truly devoted to anything, just determined. Devotion required a certain level of faith, and Hermione had lost her faith in almost everything these days, even Ron and Harry, you could tell it by the way she talked to those around her and that empty look she got in her eyes. Determination only required willpower, belief in oneself, something Hermione carried with unusual grace despite the on going war and the death of so many of her friends. She never gave up on herself; she always had a fire that helped her to continue on.

It was something I envied about her for so long, her determination, because I was slowly falling a part, I couldn't find a reason to go on. Without George I wasn't the same, because…I suppose, up until that point, he was the only person I was ever truly devoted too. As horrible as it sounds I didn't really care about what happened, as long as George was all right. I didn't want to fight in this war, this wasn't my battle—it was someone else's. Someone more powerful, someone more determined, someone more devoted. I was devoted to George; he was my brother and my twin, and my best friend. I didn't need to be devoted to a war that didn't concern me. But when George joined the Order and decided he wanted to fight I didn't hesitate to follow him; because if anything happened to him, I would simply fall apart.

And I did.

That's why Hermione decided to stay with me in muggle London (That and my mother would have forced me to move home otherwise). Because she wanted to put me back together. She was determined to help me get past George's death.

It wasn't going to happen.

Her determination to save me wasn't going to work. It wouldn't be enough to save me. But she tried anyway. She would get me self-help books; try taking me out to Hogsmeade, taking me to see a muggle movie. She would try to get me to talk, about how I was feeling, or what I wasn't feeling. But nothing ever came out. I didn't want or need her help. But she kept trying, trying to get me to talk to her. I didn't talk to my own mother, why would I start talking to my baby brother's best friend?

Our charade continued on for months, but she never gave up. She never stopped trying. And I couldn't understand why, not even determination could keep her going for this long, it just couldn't. I needed to know what kept her hopeful. And I got my answer on a beautiful Sunday morning in April.

"Fred I'm leaving for a bit, I'll be back in about an hour!" I heard her call from the front door, "Do you want anything from the grocery store?"

I got up from the couch in the living room and walked into the foyer of my modest apartment and leaned against the arch of the doorway. I shook my head no. She smiled weakly.

"I'll see you in an hour then." She grabbed her spring jacket, her bag and closed the door quietly behind her.

She did this every Sunday, she got up, showered, ate a small bowl of cereal and left for an hour wearing somewhat fancy clothes with a tired, solemn look on her face, only to return refreshed: As if she had gone for a swim, or went jogging to relieve stress. But nether of those things made sense because of her outfit. I always liked to imagine where she went, and I enjoyed pretending she was some kind of superhero fighting crime, like Spiderman, the superhero she loved so much. But that didn't make any logical sense either.

For some reason I was overcome with the need to know what she did on Sunday morning every week, the logical truth. So I grabbed my coat as well and followed her. She walked at a fairly quick pace, the sound her shoes made slowly became a melody of click-clacks and shuffles. I entertained myself with the song, and soon my feet were in time with hers. Click-clack, shuffle, shuffle, click-clack, click-clack. I wonder if she ever noticed she walked with such musical steps.

It was a nice distraction that lasted all the way to Hermione's destination. I stopped and watched her climb the steps of the humble building and enter through the rather large doors. I looked up seeing a cross at the roof's peak. She had just entered a Protestant church. To say I was shocked was an understatement. What was Hermione doing at a church? Hadn't she heard of the Puritans and the Salem Witch trials? She must have! Hundreds of witches and wizards were killed when that religious group had discovered their powers in the colonies. It took the Ministry years to oblivate of all of the colonials in order to restore peace. After that the wizarding world had rejected all religion, out of fear that any connection with it would end the wizarding people forever. Hadn't she taken Binn's class all through her Hogwarts career?

(I mean, yeah, most of us celebrate Christmas, but we don't look at it as the birth of Christ. We look at is as a time for family, friends and appreciation for life. We don't sing 'Silent Night' or set up a nativity. We're to busy decking the halls and drinking too much eggnog. And yes, I did pay attention in Binn's class. I found his lessons interesting.)

I needed to get her out of there. It was dangerous. If any of them found out…

It was beautiful. The small church had windows decorated with stain glass that made the entire room seem surreal. The seats were made of dark mahogany and the air smelled like peace, if peace ever had a smell associated with it. I couldn't help but sit down and soak in the simple beauty of the church, even if I didn't believe in what the building stood for. Then I saw her, kneeling and desperately clutching on to a necklace. Her eyes were closed, her hands close to her face. She was praying. Then I remembered. Hermione wasn't from a wizarding family, she was Muggleborn. She might have come from a religious background. I had completely forgotten that about her. I had been around her for so long I just assumed she was just like the rest of us. But she wasn't.

The congregation rose.

And I, not to bring suspicion to myself, rose as well. I listened to the Priest as he read a passage; I think they called it the Gospel. He had a rich, clear voice, and he read with such passion and devotion. You could hear his faith seep from each word. But I listened, maybe not so much to the words but to what they meant. When you get down to the core of what he was reading, it's not really that religious, its morals and ethics really. The message was of peace and fulfillment. It was actually quite nice except: "Reject that devil and his use of witchcraft." Witchcraft, in my opinion, isn't a sin as long as it is used for good and not evil. It's like having a gun. A gun can be a good thing if you're protecting your family from a burglar, it can also be evil if you use it to rob a store.

The rest of the hour went by fairly quickly. I listened, tried to be open, and waited for the end to whisk Hermione out of the church and back home. Where I knew she would be safe. I didn't participate in the whole receiving the flesh and blood of Christ, and neither did Hermione. But it was interesting to watch so many people with such great faith celebrate the God in which they believed in.

It had finally ended and the congregation slowly filtered out of the peaceful church, all except for Hermione, who remained kneeling. And now crying.

The wizarding world abandoned religion, but I knew in that moment Hermione wasn't about to do the same. Even if she's considered a walking sin.

I guess I was wrong about her.

_(Devotion _turns slowly into _Faith)_

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Comments? Suggestions? Flames? You know which button to click!

Part II should be out soon!


	2. Faith

Grace

_By Fidelius Charm_

**Summary**: The wizarding world abandoned religion, but I knew in that moment Hermione wasn't about to do the same. Even if she's considered a walking sin.

**Note**: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I am Roman Catholic myself and was surprised about the religious aspects that revolve around the wizarding world despite it all being a giant paradox and felt it had to be addressed somehow.

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Part II: Faith

I wanted to be considered the faithful one: faithful to my studies, faithful to my friends, faithful to my causes and beliefs, always so faithful. But faith requires a certain level of naivety, and I've seen too much to blindly follow the humble shepherds to the land of plenty.

I'm too skeptical, too cynical, too beaten and broken to maintain full faith in anything these days, not even my closest friends Harry and Ron. It's just too hard after losing so much, I can't trust them to stay with me forever; it's just easier to push them away, to push everyone away.

Except God.

I believe, with all of my heart, that God is watching over us. I also firmly believe that the war is some kind of punishment for being who I am, and continuing to pray for forgiveness, a forgiveness, which I most likely will never receive. But I can't help to try to be loved by the one being who would be able to love me unconditionally despite all of my flaws.

But one flaw makes me unlovable, I am a witch, witches get hung not loved. I try so hard to be a child that God would love, I try to be giving and humble and loyal and true, even though I do not know if it gets me anywhere but I've devoted my life to trying.

That's why I decided I was going to help Fred. After George died…Fred just wasn't the same. His passion for life had left him, his devotion to everyone and everything he loved died with George on that cold December evening. Fred lost that gleam of excitement that you could see in his eyes when he was masterminding a prank, he was a shell of a once great wizard and an even greater friend. Everyone missed him, especially himself. He tried, for a very long time to be his old self, but his jokes weren't funny, his pranks were uninventive and usually unsuccessful, he had lost his spark. But the worst blow of all came when Fred was forced to close the joke shop. Without George to manage the money Fred couldn't maintain the once popular business. Fred was lost after that, he couldn't forgive himself for losing the last living part of his twin. He just stopped trying.

And he almost gave up on living.

It was the most horrifying moment of my life; I had planned on surprising Fred with a cauldron full of his mother's pumpkin seed soup due to Mrs. Weasely request to check up on her son. I arrive to find the door unlocked, the entire flat in shambles, and Fred Weasely, pale, malnourished, tear stained and defeated on his bathroom floor with a muggle gun in his hands. I had sat with him for the rest of the day holding him and crying; it was all I knew how to do. We eventually both made it out alive, and I thanked God for the huge gift. I still do.

I moved in with him, to make sure he was never lonely. Tried dragging him out of our gloomy, memory ridden flat to make sure he was never bored. I tried to make him see that life was worth living. Nothing ever worked, he never spoke a word to me, but I couldn't give up on him. I wouldn't let the war have another causality that I could have prevented. So I stayed, and I fought against the wall he had constructed around his once open life. And in six months I have barely made a scratch and I was slowly becoming drained. But I had my want of God's love to keep me going, and I visited one of His houses of worship to remember why I tried so devotedly.

"Fred I'm leaving for a bit! I'll be back in an hour!" I called from the front door, slipping on my high-heeled boots, "Do you want anything from the grocery store?"

There was a silence, and then I heard the shuffle of feet on the wooden floor of the living room and waited for Fred to appear in the doorway. He arrived within seconds and shook his head no in a way that let me know he most likely wanted some strawberry milk. I smiled slightly, confirming his wish.

"I'll see you in an hour then." I said grabbing for my jacket and bag.

I didn't wait much longer to exit, closing the bright red door behind me. I threw my jacket on and made my way down the three steps to the sidewalk. I took a deep breath, looked back at the flat, and walked east towards Holy Trinity, the church I had been attending for the past six months. I looked straight ahead, just wanting to get there as soon as possible. I noticed the construction of the new park was almost finished, which would be great for the neighborhood. I couldn't help but smile slightly, I remembered having a park two blocks away from my old house. It was nice, a stable place to enjoy growing up. Just the thought made me want to cry. My parents would bring me to the park every Sunday after Church.

I had finally reached my destination, and quickly climbed the stairs and entered the humble church. I passed on the Holy Water and took my normal seat five pews up on the left side. Sister Lynn greeted me brightly and asked how I was, I told her fine, just like I do every week, and she gives me a concerned smile. Then I waited for mass to start, so I began to pray the rosary. I kneel, bless myself, and begin my futile attempt to be heard.

Mass starts as it always does, and Father Noah welcomes everyone new and old to experience the love of God. I try not to cry, because if I can get through his opening welcome without a problem I'll be all right for the rest of the mass. The older man continues and I listen intently.

"…A reading from the Gospel according to Luke."

I listening intently and recognize the reading immediately. But today Father Noah sounds different, more alive, as if he is trying unusually hard to get the meaning of the gospel across.

"…So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened…" I look up briefly to see the priest looking directly at me, I immedately divert my gaze.

I spend the rest of the mass staring at the wooden pew in front of me, listening. When the eucharist was being given out I almost stood to receive the host. I want to be like the rest of the congregation but I know, deep down, I can never be.

I am the modern day Judas.

Except for the fact I betrayed God unintentionally. I didn't think of the consequences embracing my powers would come with. But betrayal is betrayal no matter what the circumstances. It doesn't require consicousness to commit. The mass ends and Father Noah blesses us and tells us to live our lives as God would want us too. And I know I must continue to try my hardest to earn the love of God because in a time of war, He's really all you can depend on to be there.

I want to save Fred, and all of my friends. I want to say it's because my life wouldn't be the same without them, but really it's because my life wouldn't be the same without God. I feel my hands shake, and salty tears begin to well in my eyes. It isn't fair, there are so many people who have locked God out of their lives yet he would continue to love them, but I, a faithful, devoted, determined follower, will be damned to hell and denied the light of God because of who I am. It just isn't fair. I can't hold back the tears that are threathening to drown me, I begin to sob.

(Don't get me wrong. I don't want anyone's pity, I made my choice when I left for Hogwarts almost ten years ago. I just wish it didn't come with so many consequences.)

"Hermione?" I hear a familiar voice from behind me call. I turn to see Fred, who, after six months of silence, has spoken his first word.

I have lost faith in the people who love me.

But my faith for the one being who could never love me goes on.

Faith can be a funny thing.

(_Faith_ is maintained with _Naivety_)

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Gwinna: Thank you so much for your very helpful review. I myself went back to PoA and found the exact spot you had mentioned. I'm a bit ashamed that I didn't have knowledge of that, but that you for pointing it out!

Comments? Suggestions? Flames? You know which button to click!

The Third and Final Part should be out soon!


	3. Naivety

Grace

_By Fidelius Charm_

**Summary**: The wizarding world abandoned religion, but I knew in that moment Hermione wasn't about to do the same. Even if she's considered a walking sin.

**Note**: This is the last part of Grace. I hope everyone enjoyed it and considered it somewhat thought provoking. I really enjoyed writing this, I was able to really think and express my feelings about religion through Fred's character. Thanks for sticking around for the last part, especially since it took so long to get out.

Part III:

**Naivety **

People can be very naïve: Naïve in regards to their studies, naïve in regards to their friends, naïve to their causes and beliefs, constantly naïve. That naivety requires a certain level of unconscious devotion, in order to remain blissfully ignorant of one's own daily situation. And when I saw Hermione I couldn't help but be naïve to her feelings. It made me uncomfortable, seeing the girl—no, woman, who I thought was solid as rock, melt slowly into a puddle of salty tears and undeniable emotion.

"Hermione?" I called out to her, my new voice uncertain. The sun was shining through into the church, casting a beautiful light on the stained glass windows. The church was warm, and the once serene atmosphere was now one of desperation.

She slowly turned in my direction, her hazel eyes red with tears. She was a broken woman, what was left of her on display for all to see. It was simply heart wrenching. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing escaped her lips. I attempted to close the gap of silence without success, I had so many questions but the words to phrase them allude me. And the way it seemed, Hermione needed words.

I'm not the kind of guy who strings words together successfully, I never was. I have always been a man of action. Bursting through doors, yelling, dancing, loving, never talking.

I sat down next to her and clasped her praying hands in mine. I barely comprehended what she might have been going through, the depth of it was beyond my grasp, but the severity of her spiritual wound was obvious. This was eating her alive, and she hid the fact from everyone with a mask of ivory and gold. I wanted to tell her something eloquent and beautiful and true. But I couldn't; because I have never been all of those things at once. All I had to offer was what she had freely given to me. Love.

"Let me help you." I whispered as I pressed my lips on to her knuckles.

"You can't." Was her reply.

"Let me try."

"You can't." She repeats.

"He can." A calm, serene voice interjected.

We both look up and are greeted by the warm smile of a nun, her white hair is colored blonde with the light of the sun seeping through the window. She sits down in the pew in front of us and stares at Hermione intently.

"I have watched you walk in an out of this church every Sunday for almost six months, child. But I also notice you never partake in the Eucharist, you deny yourself the chance to be one with God and his son. There is no reason you shouldn't—"

"I am a sin! My existence is sinful! I don't deserve to be so close to God!" Hermione screams. The nun looks at Hermione in a sympathetic way, as if she has dealt with Hermione's struggle.

Unshaken, the nun continues, "God makes all of us in his image, _all_ of us. Even you. God would not have made you the way you are if he didn't wish it so. He loves you because you are who he wanted you to be. Being yourself, no matter who that is, is never ever a sin." She placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "Never doubt the power of God. Who has given you the gift of life," She turns to me, "And of love."

"Hermione, don't let this kill you." I whisper slowly, my throat still very dry, "Let me help you."

She embraces me fiercely, her nails digging into my skin. She continues to cry, and I wrap my arms around her. The last time we were that close was when Hermione found me on the brink of destruction on that cold October night. I suppose now we've both attempted to save each other from the edge of existence. I never should have devoted myself to being naïve to Hermione's life, her feelings, her wants and needs; Hermione shouldn't have devoted herself to being naïve about her God's love and power.

I'm glad she saved me. I'm glad to be alive so that I can play a role in saving her.

The last words from the nun are simply put, "May you walk in the Light and Grace of God."

May you walk in the Light and Grace of Life.

(_Naivety_ propelled by _Devotion_)

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So this is the end. Hopefully you enjoyed it! Sorry for the short ending but I felt it was fitting.


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